


Apple Season

by PrincessaKyla



Series: MidCentury Rustic [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - Historical, Apple Harvest, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Short & Sweet, Sweet, apple season, as American as apple pie, back at the farm..., cute farm gays, harvest time, house husband Tony Stark, laundry on the line, tony is such a house husband
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:20:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27795253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessaKyla/pseuds/PrincessaKyla
Summary: It's time for the fall apple harvest, and Tony is overjoyed.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: MidCentury Rustic [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2033530
Comments: 9
Kudos: 51
Collections: Fall 2020 Bringing Food to the Lab Seasonal Bingo





	Apple Season

**Author's Note:**

> I love fall, and I may be channeling that through the guys hardcore. Just a tad.
> 
> This story is for the Fall 2020 Bringing Food to the Lab Seasonal Bingo, filling the square "Apples."

_ I’ve got the world on a string, sittin’ on a rainbow. Got the string around my finger. I can make the rain go, anytime I move my finger. What a world, what a life, I’m in love! _

The Monday morning after the first night of the pumpkin patch saw a county paper with glowing reviews on Tony and Steve’s doorstep. Tony gave their golden retrievers lots of love for bringing the paper down the drive for them before tipping some food into their bowls and making sure they had plenty of water. They happily dug in and he settled to read the paper as he waited for the coffee to finish.

Barton, the reporter, had practically nothing bad to say, beyond them needing a bigger lot for people to park in. Tony was very pleased, and when Steve came in from morning chores for breakfast, he waved the paper proudly. 

“Glowing review,” he crowed. “We’re going to have a huge crowd this weekend, I can feel it.”

Steve smiled like the sun. “That’s great, baby. Even better, the new orchard’s ready for picking. So you’ll have plenty of apples for the rest of the season. With extras to boot.”

Tony was immediately thinking of the possibilities. “I should can some,” he said. “Or make pie filling and can that. I bet people would buy that at the farmer’s market. What about the pears and figs? And the dates?”

“They all seem to be doing well. We’ll be hard-pressed to get them all harvested. And I thought the cherries were bad this year. Why did I let you talk me into a whole new apple orchard again?”

“Beeeeecause you love me and I thought more apples would be a good bet.”

Steve just laughed and poured himself another cup of coffee.

While Steve and the hands went to work in the orchards, Tony was hard at work in the garden. The okra had come and gone already, but now it was time for the tomatoes, the cucumbers, and several other things to give him their last fruits. The beans and peas had been a particularly bumper crop for the year, and he’d made some spare change selling the extras at the market with the truly magnificent crop of summer squash. 

“You’re doin me proud, Patch,” he murmured, patting the earth near one of his best tomato plants. Nearby, the persimmon tree taunted him with almost ripe fruit. Just a bit longer and those would be all his to enjoy.

The radio played softly from the kitchen window, and Tony whistled along. It was a cool morning, but the sun was warm, and his work was plentiful, so by the time he broke for lunch, he was sweating, and had stripped down to his undershirt. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he hauled his harvest into the kitchen -- trying not to step on the dogs getting underfoot -- setting it on the table for sorting after he ate. He washed his hands and cracked open the fridge, pulling out the things he needed for a quick sandwich. If he hurried, he could get the laundry out on the line before Steve was even thinking about supper. 

Indeed, he tossed their shirts into the washer and started it fairly quickly after eating his lunch, stopping to grab an apple from the countertop bowl. It was juicy and crisp, skin snapping under his teeth in a way he couldn’t help but love. Fresh apples were an amazing perk of farm life, as were the fresh cherries in summer, and plums.

Tony stood in the back door, looking out towards the orchards, hearing the tractor start up in the distance to haul in the morning’s harvest. It was pleasant, standing in the sun, but the breeze reminded him that it was really fall, and the chill of the morning had only gotten slightly less sharp. He stepped inside and closed the bottom half of the door. It would make it easier to hear the hands and Steve when they came back up from the orchards. The dogs flopped into the warm sunspot in front of the door and quickly fell asleep.

The washer finished a little while later, and Tony loaded the clothes into a basket to take them out to the line. Steve had asked twice if he was sure he didn’t want a dryer to go with the washer, but Tony loved the fresh smell of laundry just off the line, especially in the spring and fall. Besides, hanging the laundry gave him a nice excuse to step outside most days. And time to think to boot.

Shirts hung to dry, he tossed their jeans into the washer and started it again. “Laundry, check,” he murmured. “What next?”

Next turned out to be an apple pie, the first of the season. The summer apples hadn’t been much good for baking, but the early ones for this season that Steve had brought in the day before as proof it was time to start picking were the right size and firmness. Maybe he would make baked apples for the weekend’s visitors. They would make a good item for families to take with them, and would be far easier to achieve than canned pie filling on a large scale.

“Note to self,” he said, rubbing the butter into flour for the pie crust. “Invite the ladies over for a mass canning party.”

The pie was sitting on the windowsill when Steve came home, underneath the domed screen he had made specially for Tony for his first birthday after they bought the farm.

“Laundry on the line, apple pie in the window,” he said. “Baby, you spoil me.”

Tony beamed. “You deserve it.”

Steve just chuckled and hugged him from behind where he was standing over the stove, pan frying chicken. He kissed his cheek, smiling. “If you say so, baby.” Another kiss. And another. “I want you.”

“Mmmm...and you’ll want your dinner even more in a few minutes. Don’t think that pie’s getting cut without real food in your stomach.”

Grinning, Steve pulled away and washed up before sitting down. “Yes, darling. You’ve properly chastised me.” He leaned back in his chair. “Admittedly the apple harvest always takes it out of me, more than just about anything else.”

Tony pulled the last piece of chicken from the pan and popped it onto the platter before setting it on the table and moving over the sides of mashed potatoes and green beans. “And if you eat your greens, I’ll reward you,” he said. And then, with a grin, he sat down to eat his own dinner, laughing as his love started playing footsie under the table.

Love was always the sweetest in apple season. Tony hoped it was always this way.


End file.
